Chapter Eleven

 

When Deacon had said it wasn’t the prettiest place, he had been overestimating the charm of Gus’s Bar as Brook discovered the moment she walked in through the doors. Deacon headed straight over to the bar as if he had just crawled ten miles through the desert and this was the first place he’d seen that wasn’t a mirage.

Brook trailed behind taking in the ambience. The place smelled of old beer and old men. From what she could see the place was empty except for the couple of guys playing pool and she hoped the beer the skinny old guy behind the bar was just pulling for Deacon tasted better than the thick, slightly acidic atmosphere that pervaded the place.

When she reached the bar the skinny guy who she took to be Gus, tipped up his chin to ask her what she wanted to drink.

“Beer,” she said, not wanting to tax the man’s conversational stamina. He might need it for the other three patrons of his erstwhile establishment.

By the time he had pulled her beer, Deacon had finished his bar the last inch and Gus, she was sticking with Gus although he had never introduced himself, was already pouring Deacon’s second. That worried Brook. Stories that Sheryl had told her were starting to fill her mind.

From what Deacon had already told her he had gotten back into his drinking habit after Annabelle had died but was under control. If he drank like that for any length of time he would be under a table not under control.

She sipped on her beer and took another look around. The place was definitely a drinker’s bar. No frills, no fancies, and no cocktails, no doubt. The only light that seemed to work more than intermittently was illuminating the pool table where two guys were slowly missing almost every shot. The place would be pool hustler’s worst nightmare and easiest mark.

“Who’s your friend?” Gus said to Deacon once he had quit coughing.

“Her name is Brook. She is visiting for a few days from out of town.”

“She the one nearly ran you over?”

Damn, news gets around in this town, she thought to herself.

“That would be me,” she said, the first flickering of irritation taking root at being talked about like she wasn’t there.

Brook went over to the juke box and put in a coin, she took her time flipping through the songs.

The guy cued and sent a green ball hurtling around the table hitting most of the cushions twice before it nestled against the edge halfway between two of the pockets. “You put me off my shot.”

Brook smiled sweetly then turned and looked over at Deacon. She was obviously in for a long wait. He was already taking delivery of his third beer but as Gus placed it on the bar, he gripped the handle before Deacon could spin the glass around.

“Listen, Deacon, make this one the last one, huh? I can’t afford another fight outside the bar, buddy. I might lose my liquor licence. I mean I love you and all, man, but drinking this stuff ain’t the way to sort out your problems. I should know.” He spoke quietly but Brook heard it all.

The door swung open with a jolt, in walked Chester, already drunk. He stumbled over to the far corner of the bar and sat down and looked across at Deacon. He reluctantly nodded. Deacon lifted his hand with only a little bit of effort as to wave.

Brook picked out a song and stood by the pool table watching the men play, hoping Deacon would eventually make his way over to her. He seemed, however, to be in a deep conversation with the bartender. She was over by herself for a few songs and got tired of waiting. She turned to make her way to the washrooms. In the washroom, Brook thought, I’ll just have one more drink with him and ask him to take me home. As she made her way back down the narrow hallway toward the bar, Chester turned the corner and stood blocking her way.

“Hey, cutie. You remember me? From the party?”

Brook tried to play along but really just wanted to get away. “Oh, yes, hello Chester.”

“Oh. And she remembers my name. I must have made quite an impression on you that night, huh?”

She frowned and asked to slip by. “I’d like to get back to the bar, so would you excuse me?” She started to take a step expecting him to step aside but Chester caught her and pulled her in.

“Hey, where’s the fire, little lady? Let’s me and you, go on back there and get to know each other a little, huh?”

Brook, wiggled to break loose but he tightened his grip. “Take. Your hands. Off of me!” She said sternly.

“Oh, you’re a feisty one!” Amused by her attempt. He leaned in the kiss her neck. She had both forearms on his chest pushing him off. She yelled out. “Let me go!”

Everybody heard the scream, Deacon’s smiled dropped looked back at the juke box, she wasn’t there, got on his feet, ran over to the hall. He grabbed Chester from behind and they swayed side to side as he refused to let go of Brook. Deacon’s grip got tighter and Chester finally let go of Brook to take care of this problem behind him.

Deacon spun him around to put himself between him and Brook with one hand out toward Chester, ready to push him off, if he were to try something. The other guys playing pool, ignored the whole thing. They see fights break out all the time at the bar. It was nothing new to them. And this one was between Chester and Deacon, something they knew was bound to happen, and were bored of it.

Deacon looked over at Brook. “Are you okay?”

She nodded with a quick response “Ya.”

Chester was pissed that Deacon would stick his nose in his business like that. “Get out of my way you sack of shit. This’s got nothin’ to do with you!”

He rushed toward Deacon to tackle him. Deacon stopped him but was pushed back and they both stumbled back toward Brook, frightfully pushing her back even further.

Deacon said to Chester, as he tried to control him. “Don’t be doing this Chester.”

“Do what, go for a beautiful woman? You’ve got some nerve telling me what I ought to do.”

“Chester, stop!”

“You, know what Deacon, I’m sick of you, man, thinking you’re so great. But you’re not. You’re just a piece of shit.” He pushed Deacon further. Deacon pushed back. They both had a good grip on each other.

“Stop!” Brook yelled out. “Deacon, stop! I want to get out of here!”

“Oh, so you’re with him? You, slut!”

“Hey!” Deacon pushed him back and Chester stumbled on his own feet and fell to the ground. “You asshole! Thinking you can go after my girl!”

“I’m not your girl!” she yelled out. “Deacon!”

Chester got up and rushed Deacon again, this time he came swinging his fist. Brook screamed. Deacon shifted to miss the punch. Brook screamed again, hating what she was witnessing. Chester struggling to get on his feet, he swung again, and Deacon’s head flew back. Brook yelled out “Deacon, stop!” Deacon fought back with anger, because he knew that now, Brook was upset with him because of Chester. Chester fell to the ground, drunk and tired, he couldn’t fight back or get up. Deacon reached over for Brook’s hand. She grabbed his and they rushed out the of the bar.

They jumped into the truck and drove off. “Deacon, why didn’t you stop?”

“How could you expect me to stop! He was rushing me.”

“He could press charges against you, you know.”

“Steve’s not going to take me in.”

“Steve?”

“He’s the cop that watches over this corner of town.”

“You know him?”

“Yes. He’s not going to arrest me. Trust me.”

“Why did you have to hit him so hard? He was drunk.”

“So, now you’re taking his side?”

“No, I’m not. I can’t believe you did that!” She was beginning to believe Sheryl’s stories to be true.

Deacon punched the dashboard hard. It scared Brook. “Stop it!” She cried out. You can’t control yourself, can you? I heard about you and your wife. Did you hit her too, Deacon?” She yelled out without expecting to hear the answer, she had already made up her mind.

“What?” Deacon got confused and even angrier over the accusation. “I never —”

“You know what, just take me home.” She meant the motel.

Deacon drove in a fury towards the motel. He parked the truck and Brook jumped out.

“Brook!” he cried out. And got out to go after her.

“I can’t believe you just got into a fist fight!”

“Because you screamed and he was grabbing you! Why are you mad at me?” Now, Deacon was getting loud.

Brook wanted to end the conversation and said through her teeth “Because you just couldn’t stop yourself.”

She turned and walked away, angry and nearly in tears. She held them in until she got inside her room. Deacon watched, speechless, as she walked away from him. It hurt to see her so angry at him. It seemed like nothing he did was right.

He walked himself home that night, falling into a deep sleep the moment he hit the mattress. He’d woken once in the night, sweating, the dream still vivid in his mind. He was in the lake up at the ranch, naked. The water was cold, frigid in the mountain air but as he trod water, the surface of the lake was roiling around him. Something below the surface gripped his ankle and was slowly pulling him down into the murky depths.

He glimpsed somebody standing by the edge of the lake watching. It looked like Annabelle but before he could see in any detail, the dream figure stepped forward into a space where the leaves and branches of the surrounding trees thinned to allow the sun to shine through. It was Brook. She was holding out her hand toward him, but she was just out of reach, their fingertips barely an inch apart. He tried with all his might to stretch out to her but the thing around his leg gripped tighter and pulled harder, then with a final sharp tug he was yanked into the blackness.

Sleep was difficult after that. He lay on top of the bed in just his shorts, hands behind his head, sweating in the humid night air. He knew what the dream meant. Either he could stretch and try harder to work things out with Brook or he was in danger of sliding back into his own version of the depths, somewhere he might not be able to get back out from a third time.

When sleep did come for him he still hadn’t made up his mind what he was going to do but after the last night he knew he had to get his drinking under control as part of the deal even though it was what blotted out the pain the best.

Maybe with Brook he wouldn’t feel the pain.

He closed his eyes and dreamless sleep had covered him until morning. He picked up his truck outside the motel early the next morning without even approaching Brook’s door. He only stared at it from his truck, then drove off.